


Death Current

by PvtSnail



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Angst, Badass Fight Scene, Death, F/F, Fluff, Healing, I got a little philsophical in this one, Implied/Referenced Sex, Violence, because I love her and she's my favorite I won't lie, but that can't get you out of a relationship, kinda just for fun, little snippets, might add onto this later if I ever feel like it and if yall want it idk, questions of the universe, scylla heavy, torture!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:20:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26398558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PvtSnail/pseuds/PvtSnail
Summary: A Necro's relationship with the Death Current is very important.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 56
Kudos: 206





	1. The Death Current

_ One..  _

_ Two… _

_ Breathe, breathe. _

_ Three… _

__ She kept count in her head, another Camarilla down she could feel their spirit slip back into the earth, back to the Goddess where her judgement would either pity them, or show her wrath upon their sins. Scylla hoped for wrath.

Anxiously she looked to Izadora, the words replaying in her head.

“ _ Necros do not engage in battle-” _

__ _ “If she’s out there I need to be too-” _

__ _ “Ramshorn, I will sleep induce you and then when she really does need you, you won’t be there-” _

__ _ “I jump in the moment something goes awry-” _

__ _ “That’s not how-” _

__ _ “Forgive me ma’am, but I’m telling you, not asking for permission.”  _

Izadora seemed to find her gaze, a small nod of her head before she too refocused on channeling the energy of the dead, helping lure it into their bones, so that they might breathe back out energy into the soldiers on the field. 

Necros were supposed to channel death, repurpose it for strength, give it to one of the soldiers on the field and keep moving. 

Scylla only focused on one.

A fixer.

Not just any fixer, a girl with short blonde hair with a set of braids running along the side of her hair. It was the fixer’s hair that was covered in blood, face smeared with dirt and grime, throat rubbed raw as she screeched her wind strike out countless times, brows furrowing with concentration as the scourge in her hand twisted about. 

Her life was strong, but that didn’t stop Scylla from giving her extra boosts of energy, keeping her stronger. Whether the blonde could tell if it was her she wouldn’t know, all she cared about was the feeling of the small link in the back of her head, the little tug of a red string on her pinky that let her know Raelle was doing okay. 

Everything was going smoothly.

The battle so far had been in their favor, a few small hiccups that were easily corrected by the necros, and with the aid of the knowers in their assigned units, Craven taking head of the operation everything was okay. 

Blasters directed their storms, the Fixers worked quick, and Knowers covered their asses while Necros used the death around them to keep the fight moving. 

Scylla was antsy.

Something in the back of her head just kept telling her to check on the blonde fixer. Whether it was the knowledge of the fixer’s last encounter with them she wouldn’t admit. She just knew she couldn’t lose Raelle. 

Her heart started beating fast, She felt like she couldn’t breathe. With wide terrified eyes Scylla found Tally right in the middle of the field, head turning all around them, panic struck onto her normally bright features. She seemed to lock eyes with the necro, whatever small friendship they’d formed was enough for Scylla to practically read the other girl’s mind.

“All around us! Hand to hand or scourge only! Seed’s won’t work-” Tally screamed, falling to the ground as a chorus of songs that Scylla could only really describe as nails on a chalkboard and a pig’s squeal rang out.

Their songs stopped, only well trained necros could channel the death around them, but with great risk, their throats bled with the effort, they couldn’t help anymore. 

Scylla felt the string pull and her sharp gaze landed on Raelle, she’d taken a quick hit to her arm. 

Without care, without even looking back at Izadora she ran into the battle arms reaching into the hidden daggers strapped to her side as she made her way to fight alongside the fixer. 

She made her way, her dagger quickly getting it’s use as a man attempted to hit her, but where Scylla lacked in force, she made up for in speed. She ducked, rolling onto her knees and slicing at the back of the man’s knees, forcing him to a kneeling position. She twisted over daggers slicing his throat, he was dead before he could finish falling.

Scylla rolled forward, out of the way of a spear before jumping up, she mumbled under her breath, stopping the spear in motion as she grabbed it and threw it back at it’s owner, feeling the soul leave the body all that she needed to know she struck true. 

The grin on her face was only one a necro could hold.  _ We should be let in battle more often.  _ She thought to herself, feeling the energy of the dead around her, it was exhilarating, her blood was pumping, and she laughed as she ran the rest of the way to her fixer. 

The blonde was battling against four, and was on the losing end. She watched as the scourge wrapped around the leg of one, Raelle twisting like a dancer as she whipped him into another enemy. 

She seemed to sense Scylla was near, and without speaking she lowered down onto her knees right as a jab was made at her head. Scylla bolted jumping off of Raelle’s back being launched into the air as she spun upwards, her daggers out as she sliced downwards on both the remaining enemies, she landed on her knees, chest rising and falling hard. 

The foreign song stopped, the screams ended in her ears, giving each witch a rest from the pain of the terrible screams.

Scylla rose up quickly, leaning backwards as a sword went for her, she watched as a scourge wrapped around the blade lifting it up and slamming the weapon back at it’s attacker, Scylla quickly rushed over stabbing the man, she turned ready to meet the person behind her, string pulling her.

She lifted her arm only for the dagger to stop as a hand grabbed her wrist, keeping them both in the air. Scylla breathed hard, eyes focusing in on a blonde. Raelle’s hair covered her face, she huffed and the strands flew out of the way. 

_ She looks terrifying like this. _

Raelle recognized her, and a sly smirk found its way to her face as she grinned, the rapid rise and fall of her shoulders the only indicator she was getting even slightly fatigued. 

Scylla didn’t know who moved first, but soon their lips connected and bruised hands held on tight to her waist as they had their own battle. She poured out her relief, taking in everything that Raelle was giving her as they kissed. 

Both linked, their thoughts slowly becoming one.

_ Duck. _

Raelle lowered right on command, and Scylla screeched a seed, her song cause a weed to shoot out from the ground, it’s tendril long and thick as it wrapped around the hand of the man, she pressed harder, and while channeling the current of death she watched as a mushroom sprouted out from the man’s chest, opening his flesh for the world to see. 

His screams rang out and the weed tendril took the opening, shoving itself down the man’s throat, ripping him apart in a few short seconds. 

“That was hot.” Raelle’s voice was hoarse, and Scylla found she wanted to be far away from this battle, breathing hard for an entirely different reason. 

“My room. Tonight.” 

“Yes ma’am.” Raelle nodded her head eagerly, pulling Scylla into another deep kiss before pulling apart, both standing back to back. Scylla reached her hand back, meeting Raelle’s already waiting for her, she grasped the familiar hand and squeezed. 

Her eyes scanned the sky, seeing the blaster’s storms were up again, when she lowered them she caught sight of the High Atlantic running towards them, she looked at the man on the ground, eyes a mix of disgust and intrigue as she looked at the mushroom still steadily growing out, even a few flowers had begun to sprout in the wake of death.

“You’re telling me, Necros can do that? And yet they’ve been on the sidelines this entire time?” Abigail laughed, shaking her head and gazing at Scylla with something new in her eyes. 

“Top of class necros can do that.” She smirked and Abigail laughed, running her tongue along the back of her teeth as she smiled.

“Touché.” 

“Jealous huh Bells?” Raelle’s voice rang out, and Scylla snapped her head, eyes widening as she saw the spear pierce Raelle’s heart. 

The scream caught in her throat, her ears didn’t hear the wind strike, she only felt the string on her pinky tighten impossibly snug as her knees fell and she rushed toward Raelle’s lifeless body.

She roared out, vines, mushrooms, decay, death swirling in the air as she felt the string snap, and felt one, once vibrant and strong soul sink back into the ground. 

“Scyl.” The voice wheezed, and the last breath fell against Scylla’s cheek, her soul broke.

She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t, she couldn’t-

Scylla blinked, and the wail that left her throat was one that chilled the bones of everyone around her. Her eyes flowed a stream of tears, the pain in her chest. 

She grabbed the blondes hand, the one that had felt so strong against her own only moments ago, it was still warm. 

“No!” She screamed, and the sound bounced off the walls of her mind hitting her in the face over and over again.

Raelle was dead. 

Raelle was dead.

Raelle was-

She felt her heart crack into tiny bits, the good part in her broke, in fact all of her broke. She looked at the girl she loved, feeling her in the death current around her as she broke down, tears covering the girl’s uniform. 

_ Death current. _

Her head snapped up. She wasn’t a particularly well seasoned necro but she read about this. She read about this in her advanced studies, she remembered it quite well because Raelle had been there, they talked about the relationship with life and death fixers have, how those powers combined could be unstoppable, how they could be unstoppable. 

She could hear Izadora yell out, the older woman most likely already well aware of what she would attempt. 

It would cost her life if she failed. 

Yet, then again, she didn’t want a life without Raelle, she didn’t want to go about the rest of her days barely able to feel, barely able to breathe knowing the last good thing she’s ever known was gone. 

She closed her eyes, channeling her way through the current, imagining herself tied with a rope to the realm of the living, a rope that could extend as far deep into death as she needed to go. She may have failed her parents, but she refused to fail Raelle. 

With steady breaths she opened her eyes, and the world was cold, dark, it wasn’t her world, it was an empty space of black, filled with the souls of the dead waiting to be ferried across to the Goddess. The lady could have them all, all except for one.

She moved forward, feeling something on her finger, her pinky to be exact. It was the red string, she saw it now, perfectly, neatly tied onto her pinky. It was like her finger was a present, and part of her wanted to snort at that, thinking of the dirty way Raelle would twist that thought, but she shook her head, she could tell Raelle all about her sex joke as soon as she was back to her.

Trucking onward she followed the red string, and soon enough she caught sight of Raelle. She rushed forward, reaching out her hand and touching the blonde, watching with anticipation as the girl turned to face her.

“Scyl? You shouldn’t be here, you’re not dead.” Raelle slowly cocked her head, everything was slower here. 

“It’s cute that you think death can get you out of this relationship.” Scylla couldn’t help herself, though she couldn’t let out her tears, they didn’t belong in this realm.

“I don’t understand.” Raelle went to move her head away, looking upwards as the sky began brightening. The lady was close. With panic Scylla grabbed Raelle’s head, forcing her to look at her. 

“Rae, you make this choice. Either we both live, or we both die.” She couldn’t heal an unwilling soul. That’s not how it worked. 

It was like a lightbulb, slowly, went off in Raelle’s head.

“You’re doing the death current. Scylla no-”

“It’s too late, I’m not going back without you.” 

“It’s so peaceful here, no uniforms either.” Loopy Raelle was back, and sure enough Scylla looked down and the girl was in an old faded Lacrosse sweater, one that suspiciously looked like the sweater Scylla would wear to sleep when she missed Raelle, the faded scent always reminding her of her fixer.

“Rae, I need you to make the choice. Are you with me?” Raelle’s head snapped, and her face looked like it was confused.

“Of course, I’m always with you Scyl. No matter what happens, you said that. I’m with you no matter who you are, always.” 

“Come back to me Rae.” Raelle nodded, her loopy side coming back, but it was more like when she was drunk off her rocks on stolen moonshine stached in Circe. She grabbed Scylla’s hand and Scylla imagined a rope tying itself to both her and Raelle, slowly dragging them back to the land of the living. 

It was a close call, the Lady was almost there but by the time Scylla reached the end she smiled as Raelle, unsure of what would come of the two of them when they passed back through. 

“I love you.”

“I could never stop loving you.” Raelle responded, and a bright white light engulfed them.

The darkness was, quiet. Perhaps it didn’t work? 

Scylla sat in her mind, chin resting on her knees as she breathed, it was the only thing she could really do. Just breathe, feel the occasional warmth that passed over her senses, every now and then a bright light flashing in her eyes, blinding her momentarily. She wasn’t dead. No, she was stuck. 

Scylla was stuck, and although she should be worried she felt a quiet sense of peace.

Her head was empty for the first time, there was no underlying fear of anger, no rage or distrust. Though there was no love, no memories of pearly whites flashing at her under covers, no memories of a hand holding hers while she screamed out with frustration trying desperately to write a paper. 

It was simply nothing. The space was devoid of everything except for her. Her soul? That she did not know, these matters were too complex to the mind you see. 

When you enter the death current, you feed your life energy back, as you grapple with being claimed by the empty abyss, the Lady’s call is hard to ignore, her gentle song singing you back to her gardens to rest before the next life. 

Pulling out a whole other person from the death current was near impossible, and took even more energy from your life force. 

She was in a coma. That’s what Scylla concluded, it was like the universe decided to force her into one long nap, where she could sometimes hear murmuring, the occasional footsteps, sometimes she could smell a bit of sweat, sunshine, and all things she associated with Raelle. Scylla would even swear that she could feel a hand in hers, the warmth of it felt all over her spirit. 

She relished those feelings, because thats the only time she was able to really feel anything. Feel warmth, pure love, safety. Without a doubt she knew it was Raelle while not quite knowing what a ‘Raelle’ was, and at the same time knowing exactly what Raelle was.

Raelle was safety, warmth, a fire in the coldest of nights, a fire between her thighs, a fire in her mind, a fire that kept the cold workings of her heart in order. Raelle was love, like one loves a friend and like one loves in a way that only comes once every five billion years. Raelle was home, a roof over her head that kept the rain of doubts and fears out, she was the walls that hugged her tight, she was the foundation, always keeping her grounded and true to herself, she was the door, the only one with the right key to her heart, to who she truly was deep down.

Raelle was quite literally, everything. 

So while in this state Scylla may not entirely understand what a ‘Raelle’ is. She knew one thing for sure. She would fight everyday to live in the house of Raelle, to feel it’s fires and all the desires it sparked in her. 

She would fight.

Scylla stood in her mind, the prison that it once always was. She pounded on the walls, screaming as it buckled off her mind, the flashes came again, and instead of stopping she pounded harder. 

She wanted whatever this ‘Raelle’ was.

She demanded to know it. 

She demanded to feel it.

She stomped, she made noise, she screamed and pounded her fists until finally the flashes seized to be flashes and became one. 

Eyelids fluttered and light filled her senses, she coughed, voice hoarse as she tried to call out, memories of everything rushing back to the surface. Where was she? She looked around, beds, tables, smell of sanitizer, a hospital. She was in a hospital, though not just any hospital, she was in the infirmary at Fort Salem. Yes, she recognized it well enough.

Her coughing caused a surge of footsteps, though there was one that was so familiar to her, and she lifted her head, and despite the crowd surrounding her bed she locked eyes with a bright stormy sky. 

So that was what a ‘Raelle’ was. 

“Scylla.” 

“Raelle.” 

Lips met hers, and desperate hands tangled into hair, her own fisting the shirt of the blondes’ as she held on tight, pulling her in closer, the warmth, the fire, Oh Goddess! She could feel it all, the happiness, the serenity, the  _ desire.  _ She could feel it all and she wanted to feel more. 

They broke apart, needing breath, both placing their foreheads against the other’s, looking into their eyes.

“Don’t do that again.” Raelle begged.

“You left me first.” Scylla replied, swallowing, Raelle looked down, closing her eyes before opening them again, they were glassy.

“Scylla it’s been two months. I thought I lost you.”  _ No.  _

“No matter how far apart from each other we are, we always come back.” Scylla declared, and Raelle nodded, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, hugging her tightly.

“Death ain’t gonna get you out of all this Scyl.” Raelle laughed, and Scylla smirked at her.

“Don’t steal my lines.” 

“Don’t steal my heart.” A brow raised.

“Don’t steal my breath.”

“Don’t steal my love.”

“Too late, I’ve had you wrapped around my finger since the day we met.” 

“I think you forget that you were quite literally around my finger the day we met.” Raelle winked, and there was that fire, the one her mind, her soul spoke of. 

“I need you.” Scylla breathed.

“As soon as you’re released.” 

“I love you.”

“I love you more than you know.”


	2. Leaves and Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Necros are glorified botanists.
> 
> -R.C.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all had me crying with your comments, and the muse was back so I decided I'd add on to this little story.
> 
> Hope you don't mind my philosophical ranting. I always kinda got the feeling that me and Scylla think sorta in the same way, so it's fun to write out these conversations in her inner mind that I have with myself and think she'd do as well :P

The trees that lined the streets of Fort Salem had slowly begun losing their leaves. The colors transform from a once vibrant green to a cacophony of red, orange, and yellow. Some were still snug tight against their branches, while the others fell to the floor. Scylla sat on the grass, leaves crunching under the weight of her body as she watched a leaf wall, forced off it’s branch by nature’s wind. 

It was an orange leaf, and Scylla smiled to herself. Everyone ooed and awed, finding joy in the spectacle of nature, looking at it like it was some amazing thing, though Scylla knew what it was. 

The leaves changed color because they were dying.

_ Perhaps humans change as we slowly die?  _ The thought stuck in the front of her mind, she let it soak, weighing the implications. 

_ In what ways would we change?  _

_ If leaves change and die with the seasons would we not also follow our own seasons? _

_ What color would my leaf be? _

She smiled at that one. A laugh escaped her as she reached out and caught the orange leaf, plucking it right from the air, halting it’s descent to its final resting place. 

That's what a necro could do, they could halt death, keep it in place, right before it was taken away completely, let it be stuck on that death current for just a little longer, for as long as their power would allow them. 

Her brows furrowed as she watched the leaf slowly transform from a sickly orange to green, making it look like she stole the thing right from the tree like it was a fresh newborn babe. She turned it over in her hand, feeling the now prominent veins between her fingers.

_ How peculiar.  _

The string on her pinky tugged and her eyes looked up to see a familiar, and comforting fixer walking towards her, bright smile on her face. She couldn't help but let out a large smile of her own, watching as her girl strutted towards her, stepping onto the grass that would surely upset a Drill Sergeant if she was still in basic. 

She always liked that about the blonde. 

The Army may have decided to take her, decide to dominate the rest of her life just because of what she was born to be, but Raelle took one look at them and spat on their shoes. She wouldn’t be silent in her conscription, she’d be loud, she’d wail in the night and wake up all the Generals, making sure they rued the day they demanded her service.

“Must you upset the balance of nature?” Scylla asked once the girl was in earshot, Raelle reached for the leaf, holding it’s stem carefully between her thumb and forefinger, inspecting her work critically. 

“Like you haven’t stopped nature from doing it’s duty.” Raelle winked and Scylla gave her a knowing look in return, staring into Raelle’s eyes as she focused her energy on the leaf right in between the girl’s fingers.

“Fixers, always so cocky, thinking you’re above death.” Raelle seemed to catch wind of what Scylla was doing, looking down to see decay slowly start to spread its way through the leaf. She jumped her eyes back up to Scylla, the brunette had never taken her eyes off of her, and she was now sporting a smirk.

“And Necros, so close with death you forget you’re alive.”

“We don’t forget, we’re made painfully aware of our mortality.” 

It was true though. Constantly being able to feel death surrounding you, in even the smallest of things, it messed with your head, took countless and so many mandatory counseling sessions with their instructor to even deem them mentally able to head out into the field. Much less into battle. That was why they were held back, so much death happening all at once was like one giant explosion in a necro’s head. 

It was why they were so damn powerful, yet so fragile. Even Scylla couldn’t handle it at times, thinking back to her last battle just three months ago. She could dance around the battlefield, she could command it if she had the mental fortitude to do it. Though the truth was she could go mad, and it took discipline to command death in the way she had done it. If Raelle wasn’t there she would’ve lost focus and succumbed. 

The battle between the life of the leaf was still going on, Raelle’s low seed in her throat halting the progress of Scylla’s, they locked eyes, waiting to see who would cave first, the pair being powerful witches in both their day and respective fields. 

“And yet you all saunter off to be by yourselves.” 

“We don’t like relationships, just power boosts.” Scylla winked, and Raelle raised her brow in challenge. 

“Who’s to say fixers don’t do the same thing?” Raelle protested, her grip on the leaf tightening as she held it up between them.

“Fixers, maybe.” Scylla stood up, walking towards Raelle slowly wrapping her arms around the girl’s shoulders as she nuzzled her nose into the crook of the girl’s neck. She breathed in, the sensation of warmth and the smell of a bonfire tickling her senses as she escaped for just a moment. 

Slowly she traced her nose up along Raelle’s neck, making her way up to her ear as she whispered. 

“But Raelle Collar isn’t like most fixers.” She playfully bit at the girl’s ear, a low growl rumbling through Raelle’s chest at the sensation. Quickly she grabbed Scylla’s waist with her left hand, still trying to focus her power on keeping the leaf alive. 

“Most? I’m not like anyone you’ve ever had.” Raelle declared proudly, and Scylla’s eyes took on a mischievous glint.

“Eh.” Scylla shrugged and Raelle narrowed her eyes at her. She moved in close, going for a kiss but turning her head just at the last second, her lips hovering above Scylla’s ear. She smiled in satisfaction at the hitch in the brunette’s breath, she could practically feel the blood pumping faster as she closed their distance.

“S-stop using t-that fixer stuff on me.” 

Raelle had too much control over her, more than she really would ever know. Or perhaps she already knew, from their past, their hardships, all the doubt that still circulated around them every now and then. Raelle affected her with every single passing second of her life, whether in person, or a simple thought, and even when she wasn’t thinking of the blonde she’d find herself tracing an ‘S’ into her left palm unconsciously. 

Raelle drove her mad and she would happily go insane.

“Oh no Scyl, no fixer stuff, just some Collar charm.” She put more emphasis into her drawl, letting her voice become lazy so it’d be more prominent, Scylla shivered.

“Can I remind you of your mortality tonight?” Raelle asked, breathing so that it would fan across Scylla’s cheek.

She turned her head, looking up into stormy blue eyes as she searched her face, cocking her head ever so slightly. With a smirk she looked the blonde up and down, taking in stock of her build, making a show of it all.

Scylla smiled her eyes turning soft as she stared at the woman she loved most in the entire world. She thought about everything in her life in that small moment. Her leaf was once a vibrant green, turned to red at the hands of the military, always a dull color even while working with the Spree, her leaf only bouncing back to green the moment she met Raelle. 

_ Raelle is like spring, she brings life, growth, happiness and warm showers of love.  _

Goddess she was getting too sappy, her twelve year old self would be thrilled of the slowly, yet surely, romantic she was becoming. And it was all thanks to one Raelle Collar. 

“Only if I can remind you of yours.” Her voice took on a seductive edge, playful, knowing just how much it affected the woman before her. It worked just enough, they both looked down, finding the leaf submit to Scylla’s will, the green receding and moving to a sick orange once again. 

Scylla smiled triumphantly, though she was thankful for the break in exercising her power, knowing the two of them they were evenly matched, they’d be at that for days, both too stubborn to stop just for the satisfaction of having something to playfully tease the other about. Lovingly of course.

Raelle flicked her eyes back to Scylla before crushing the leaf with her hands, she watched as a breeze came and snatched the bits away, it’s remains scattered about the grounds of the Fort, with countless  _ others, _ including the leaves that had already fallen that morning. 

“Are we really that fragile?” Raelle asked, her voice quiet and Scylla tilted her head, moving a hand to her blonde’s cheek, slowly tracing the line of her scar with her thumb as she searched into her eyes. 

The thing is, life  _ is  _ that fragile. With all the joys and wonders it brings, with all the change and new colors of age that inspire the young, no matter what it is always fragile. Even a healthy green leaf can be plucked right from a branch. No matter how strong that leaf might be, if the force of the offender was stronger than no leaf would be safe. 

_ Raelle was a strong leaf, and still death’s grasp was strong.  _ The thought caused a frown to pass briefly on Scylla’s face, though Raelle gave her time to think, let her process just exactly what she needed to say, and how to say it. 

Death’s grasp was strong, that is true. Though perhaps humans were more like trees, in that we have our leaves that die with the season, and we grow anew the next. We can still be blown away by a strong storm, still catch on fire, or be chopped down, but we’re stronger than a flimsy leaf.

_ Raelle’s a tree.  _ Scylla decided, strong, proud, and tall. Well maybe not tall, there were plenty of short trees out there that could withstand harsh winds. And while uprooted trees might be hard to save, with the right arborist could save it.

_ Raelle’s a tree and I’m her arborist.  _

“Two years ago I’d say yes.” Raelle laughed.

“Two years ago I was a private in basic.” Scylla rolled her eyes.

“Two years ago I would’ve declared life to be a leaf, make it into a giant metaphor-”

“I’m sure you’ve already done that in your head.”

Scylla stayed silent at that, and Raelle’s laughter caused her cheeks to burn red, ears turning hot despite the autumn chill as she was caught red handed. Sure, she didn’t go on too many philosophical rants about life and death and more death, but she was allowed to at least think about them in her head. As well as her many journals she kept in a bookshelf in her room.

“Regardless.” Scylla began again, watching as Raelle struggled to hide her smile. “I’d say that you Raelle Collar are no leaf, but a tree, big and strong, able to withstand almost all that nature throws at you.”

“And the things I can’t handle?”

“Well it’s a good thing you have your own personal arborist.” Scylla spoke matter of factly and Raelle twisted her face in confusion, she looked at the brunette incredulously. 

“Wha-”

“A tree surgeon.” Scylla laughed, and Raelle joined her, shaking her head with the force of it. Scylla rolled her eyes squealing out when Raelle lifted her up by her waist, twirling her around before falling backwards onto the ground, Scylla tumbling down with her, landing on top.

The sound of crunches followed as they wrestled on the ground, the weight of their bodies easily crumbling up the leaves that had fallen. Scylla let out a huff of air as her back hit the soft ground, the familiar feel of Raelle’s weight on top of her a comfort. Her legs opened on instinct, Raelle fitting perfectly between them as she hovered over her.

“So you mean.” Raelle began, slowly kissing up Scylla’s neck. “To tell me that, necros are just glorified botanists?” Scylla let out a gleeful laugh, Raelle’s fingers reaching under her shirt to tickle her against the ground. 

“Oh shut up I was trying to make you feel better- dammit Raelle! Stop!” She laughed, and Raelle ceased her assault, craning her head to taste Scylla’s lips. 

She moaned feeling Raelle’s warmth, her breath always a welcoming feeling to her. Her hands found their respective places, one trailing along the blonde’s jaw, while the other held onto her shoulder, drawing circles with her fingertips.

“It’s okay to say it Ramshorn. You made up a whole metaphor bout me bein a tree because you wanna climb me.” Raelle whispered as they pulled back, and Scylla let out a snort, but she couldn’t stop the smile on her face.

“Well, the connection was surely made, though I very much would like to climb this particular tree.” Raelle bit her lip and moved to lift Scylla’s shirt, frowning when the girl stopped her. 

“I am not having sex with you in broad daylight outside.”

“Oh come on, we’ll go to our tree.” Raelle purred, hands sliding along the tops of Scylla’s thighs, barely holding back from where they both wanted them.

“It’s not even Beltane you weirdo-”

“Ah! Sexy weird, which you like, besides Beltane is months away.” Scylla slowly stood, leaving Raelle on the ground looking up at her like a puppy being denied a treat. Which she supposed the girl was. 

“There’s still Samhain Rae.” Scylla leaned over, pulling her love up and off from the ground, linking their hands and tugging her in the direction of her barracks.

“Where are we going?” Raelle whined and Scylla let out a chuckle, barely looking over her shoulder to catch Raelle’s reaction to what she spoke out next.

“I’d like to climb my tree.” Raelle straightened up, walking just a bit faster. “In private.” Scylla added laughing at the sound of a sigh and a smile broke out onto her face as she lifted Raelle, the squeal jumping out of the blonde’s throat as they passed into the threshold of the barracks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have like a vague-ish idea of a plot, but honestly I see this as being more subtle drabbles of their life.
> 
> Right now Raelle is a Sophomore in War College and Scylla is training there under the Spree Alliance :))


	3. An Alder Branch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moss is suffocating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW:   
> Scylla's parent's death  
> (not too graphic)
> 
> abuse:  
> (Scylla calls out Willa for manipulating her)

Being anywhere near Alder was not something Scylla found she enjoyed experiencing. She always walked away from the women with the taste of broken glass and the rusty tang of her own blood in her mouth. Maybe the woman uttered a quick seed at her, some not-canon work just to spite the Spree agent. 

This time, instead of a terrible metal chair that left her back aching for weeks, she found herself in a much more comfortable one. It was wooden, and her hands absently trailed along it’s grooves, thinking about the tree that it was taken from. 

_ Maybe it's from an Alder Tree.  _

She snorted, and eyes snapped to her. 

_ Dammit Ramshorn. _

__ “I’m sorry, and what about the death of witches do you find funny, Ms. Ramshorn.” Alder snapped and Scylla narrowed her eyes, straightening her back up, lifting her chin in a show of superiority, upsetting the alpha in its own territory was always a fun game for her to play. 

“Oh, are you implying that you actually  _ care  _ about witches' lives? Perhaps I should recite the statistics of just how many you’ve killed-”

“Ramshorn.” The voice was firm, a hand on her left shoulder squeezing hard. She turned her head and looked at the woman next to her.

Willa Collar was, well they had an  _ interesting  _ relationship. Things had been incredibly tough since the day she realized her cell leader was her girlfriend’s mother. The fight, if you could even call it that, was messy and Scylla let her have it, she had to be sleep induced as her emotions were so powerful she unknowingly dipped into the death current.

The Collar Family Reunion went worse. Incredibly worse than what Scylla alone did to the woman that was now sitting next to her. When Raelle realized what her mother did to her, what she did to Scylla, what she did to her father, the door had been shut, only opened slightly by the alliance. 

There were many times where Scylla caught the older woman trying to trap her daughter, to find a way to speak to her, though the Collars were a stubborn bunch, and it took a Ramshorn to stop both women from causing a storm that would surely wreck the fort. Now that Scylla was thinking about it she probably should’ve let that happen.

_ Yay! No fort, no conscription! The witches have been liberated! Right?  _

__ After almost destroying the entirety of Fort Salem the two women agreed to only speak if it was an absolute emergency, or if it benefited the alliance. Of course Scylla ended up being caught in the middle of it all. Willa would casually ask about Raelle in debriefings, and Raelle would try to sometimes subtly ask about her mom. 

It was exhausting, and she had her own reservations about Willa. 

Like stopping her from messing with Alder, for instance.

Scylla let a threat flash in her eyes, and immediately Willa loosened her grip and retracted her hand, moving over to look at Alder who had her eyes narrowed on the young necro. One she just couldn’t quite get rid of. 

“As I was saying, we’ve made arrangements for one of our strongest units to act in a Recon Operation in the Cession. We don’t have much presence there and it would be beneficial to keep our cover. Seeing as Ramshorn is good at getting away undetected and stemming from her dodger background she would be an asset on the team-”

“No.” The eyes turned to her once more. Scylla traced her hands along the grooves of the chair again, trying to calm her breathing. She wouldn’t go on some mission that would most likely take months of work and prep just so Alder could keep her from Raelle. 

“Will you keep your agents in line or will I have to do it?” Alder snapped, and Scylla couldn’t help the small smile that flashed on her face before going away, an arm on her elbow forcing her up and out of the room.

“One moment.” Willa responded, and Scylla winced as the harsh nails dug into her flesh as she was forced out and flung towards the stairwell, her back hitting the door. 

Scylla bit her lip, trying to cool her breath.

_ One _

__ _ Two _

__ _ Three. _

__ _ I’m gonna fucking windstrike her so- _

__ _ No, no you’re not. At the end of the day that’s Raelle’s mom and she gets a small pass just for that.  _

__ _ Raelle would windstrike her. _

__ _ Raelle is not emotionally ready or able to unpack all of that, you’re not thinking clearly right now your ego is bruised and you’re scared.  _

__ Scylla glared at the woman who rubbed her hand down her face before she sighed and leaned her back up against the wall right across from her. She took a few moments to steady herself, before decidedly speaking.

“I’m not going. You can’t make me leave.”

“Yes, I can.” Willa responded, and Scylla scoffed.

“I promised myself I would never leave her. I’m not going.”

“I miss the days when you were a scared little girl lost in the world looking for my validation. Sixteen year old you would’ve jumped through hoops for me if I asked.” Willa sneered and Scylla balled her fists up.

This was not helping her for her anger management.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that, you manipulated and groomed me.” Scylla’s voice let out a small squeak, feeling a lump form just in her throat.

_ Five years. It was almost five years to the day. She didn't leave her hiding place in the garage for maybe a day, waiting for her mom to come find her, tell her the drill was over and everything was okay.  _

__ _ She knew it wasn’t.  _

__ _ Scylla wasn’t stupid, she heard the screams, heard the thumb of bodies hitting the floor. Heard the laughter of the MPs and the creak of the door. Her father was supposed to fix that, it had been annoying her mother for a few days.  _

__ _ When she finally crawled out of that space, she chanced a small look and wanted to puke. Her parents were dead, gone, the only thing left of them was the blood still on the ground. She saw the scourge marks on the ground, she saw the dirty tracks of regulation boots brought in by the military.  _

__ _ It was forever printed in her mind.  _

__ _ She’d walked days, it was hard to be a dodger by yourself. Before she could rely on her parents, they always made good and safe decisions, always seemed to know just where to go. She remembered her father speaking of a house just down in the Cession. It wasn’t too far away from where they had been.  _

__ _ She made her way, and it was the dead of night when she finally stopped at the right house. It’s paint was chipped, and nothing looked quite special. She’d sung her seed, the one her parents grilled into her head since the moment she could even make the sound in her voice and waited, watching as a tall woman opened the door.  _

__ _ Willa welcomed her in, told her to stay quiet because her daughter was asleep, and that she would help get her to a group she knew about, a group of people like the dodgers that would help her.  _

__ “Look. You’re either my agent, or their soldier.” Willa started but Scylla snapped, her head shaking and a laugh escaping her lips.

“Thought I was supposed to be free.” 

“You’ll be free, when we win the war.” 

Scylla bit the inside of her cheek, this wasn’t what she had been fighting for her entire life. She felt used, used in a way she thought only the military would ever do to her. Perhaps she should’ve said no when they asked her to do that mission, said she wanted to stay a dodger and go her separate ways. She’d considered it.

The spree had become the moss on her tree. They slowly slithered their way, suffocating her skin, filling in all the holes in her mind with their mantras and ideals. They infected her, kept her in their grasp and like moss on a tree they took who she really was and made her appear to be something completely different. 

At the end of the day the roots of her tree, who she was, was the daughter of two dodgers, two pacifists, a scared little girl. It was Raelle who started to tear the moss from her bark, strip it away piece by piece no matter how quickly it grew back. 

It was Raelle who brought back that naive girl and let her heart flutter from heated nights and lazy drawls, whispered promises and supportive kisses that shut her up when she ranted about death and its complexities, when she ranted about not ever feeling like she was enough. 

Raelle peeled back every single damn layer of moss, she gave Scylla confidence in herself. She let her be the nerd she was, let her geek out about horror movies, and all the various fungi that amazed her with the possibilities of what they could do if given the right touch. 

Fixers healed things. 

And Raelle healed Scylla.

“I’m not leaving her.” Her voice cracked, and Willa softened for just a second. Scylla looked into the woman’s eyes and saw Raelle’s staring right back at her, she looked down, rubbing at her hands before looking back up. “Please, don’t make me leave her.” 

She felt pathetic and weak, but it was Raelle who only ever gave her strength. She looked into the eyes of the woman who created the girl she loved most, more than anything in life and death and all the came in between that and realized her fate had already been sealed. 

“I’m sorry Scylla.” 

The brunette stormed away, not caring to stay for the rest of the meeting. She bursted through the doors of the main building and took off with a sprint, running to the other side of the Fort where she knew her fixer would be, she’d be in class but Scylla didn’t care.

Her lungs were on fire and she stopped, uncaring of the tears that streamed down her face as she struggled to find Raelle in the sea of bodies of the Sophomore fixers doing their exercises. 

As if sensing her distress Raelle snapped her head towards Scylla, and the brunette sprinted despite the pain until she fell into her lover’s arms, holding on tight as her sobs racked out of her body. Raelle hugged her tight and close, panic taking over her mind, as she took in the state of her distressed necro.

“Collar! You are in the middle of class-”

“Give me a demerit.” She looked at Scylla’s reddened eyes, so many different scenarios jumping in her mind, her voice croaked. “Scyl, ya gotta tell me what happened, what’s wrong?” 

Scylla took in a deep breath, trying not to hyperventilate. How could she even tell her? Tell her that she was being forced away, probably on a mission to die because Alder would find a way to get rid of her once and for all, for being a thorn in her side. Raelle seemed to figure it out just then.

“You’re being sent away.” It wasn’t a question, and when Scylla cried harder it only confirmed the dread in the air. 

She looked at the girl who tore her moss away bit by bit. The girl who she in turn peeled layers of moss off of, trauma from her mother, trauma from the military. All revealing an awkward cession girl with a drawl in her voice that got heavy in the morning and late at night. A girl who was a star player on her high school’s lacrosse team, and could out drink all the high atlantics in the world. 

Raelle got a look in her eye. Scylla knew it well, and she shook her head, she wouldn’t let her do that. It wasn’t an option for her. She was going to stay here and finish War College so she could be an officer, be safe. 

“Raelle no-”

“Where’s my mom?” 

“Raelle-”

“Scylla. Where is she?” 

By the time they made it back to Alder’s office Willa was already stepping out. She blanched at the sight of her daughter on a warpath, holding tightly onto her necro’s hand as she made her way through the hall with a purpose. 

“Rae-”

“She’s not going. Find another necro.” Raelle’s voice was steel, her resolve was like iron. Willa raised her brow, looking at her daughter, trying to read what she would do next. Scylla counted the woman’s breaths, feeling the inhale in her bones, they were deep breaths. 

The sound of footsteps echoed out loudly behind Raelle and Scylla, and the brunette turned her head to see the other two members of the Bellweather Unit filing in. Abigail narrowed her eyes, and Tally’s filled with concern at the sight of a puffy eyed Scylla. The redhead immediately went to the necros side, looking down at her face, Scylla swallowed heavily under her gaze, accepting the supportive arm that found it’s way onto her back.

“Is there a problem here?” Abigail started, she stood defensively in front of Raelle. 

Any other time Scylla would’ve laughed, and Tally and her would’ve giggled about how far the two had come. She remembered Raelle in basic, the way she absolutely despised of the high and mighty Bellweather in her unit, always so demanding with her high haughtiness. Now they were practically inseparable. 

They were sisters. 

It was then that Alder chose to step out of her office, her eyes flicked in confusion at the amount of people standing there. She looked over the unit, muttered something under her breath before walking back and taking a seat. Her open door was an invitation that the Bellweather quickly accepted, her unit plus Scylla following suit.

“I’m glad you’re here Bellweather Unit, I was just about to send for you.” 

The three stiffened to attention, though Raelle kept her hand out to hold Scylla’s. Alder stared at the joined pair for a moment, whatever her thoughts were it had Tally coughing loudly, the woman looked at her former biddy before nodding once.

“I need your skills for an important,  _ low risk, _ recon op. Ramshorn will be joining you with intelligence from the Spree.” 

“You’re pulling us from War College?” Abigail asked.

“Again.” Raelle spat, a hiss from the biddies caused a shiver to run up everyone’s spines but they stayed still, and Raelle kept her glare right on the General herself.

“Take it as a compliment. Your experience will surely help you rise in rank after your final graduation. You’ll leave at 0300 hours tomorrow morning, I suggest you pack now.” The unit made to file out, Willa and Scylla with them before Alder yelled out. “Ramshorn, a word.” 

Scylla nodded to Raelle, giving her hand a tight squeeze before turning back, making her way to the alder tree chair, her hands coming up to rest on it’s back as she looked at the General.

“In my many years I will admit, humanity escapes me. I am not perfect, and I lack compassion.” Scylla narrowed her eyes, her fidgeting coming to a stop. 

_ Is she extending an alder branch?  _

__ “I have decided after speaking with Willa that we will be creating a joint unit, both Spree and Military. We both agree that for this experimental unit it would work best if you were paired with a unit you’re familiar with. This means each mission, each training exercise, all that unit does you will be a part of.” Alder finished and Scylla had a thousand thoughts in her head.

“You’re making me a part of the Bellweather Unit.” Scylla stated, and Alder nodded.

“This alliance only works if we have trust, and Collar has a history of not performing well without your presence.” 

“I-I don’t understand-”

“I too, was a scared teenager about to face death. I was young, and forced to make a decision I didn’t know or could even comprehend what the effects would be. I’ve never lived in a world where witches could live without fear.” 

The two stared at each other, Scylla almost wanting to laugh because this really was the woman’s attempt to extend an olive- alder branch to her. 

“I would like to see that world.” 

“You, enslaver of witches, want to end the conscription of our kind?” Scylla slowly spoke, confused that this was even a conversation she was actually having.

“When you return, I would like to see how you think we could get out of this, mess I’ve created.” 

The air was still, and Scylla looked at her incredulously. She thought about the offer on the table, unspoken but there. The liberation of witches, a plot, an actual audience with a willing person to help, a person wanting to right their wrongs to their kind. 

The part of Scylla’s tree that still had moss covering it rejected the offer immediately. She couldn’t trust the woman that killed her parents, that enslaved her entire kind and forced her to do the terrible things she had done in her life. 

Her parents. 

Dodger pacifists who just wanted to live their life. Raise their daughter. 

Who wanted to raise their daughter to be something more than what was prescribed for her. 

_ My parents lived in fear, I live in fear.  _ She thought of Raelle, and the idea of their future played out before her head. They could live on the beach, Raelle would learn the right seed so that Scylla could bear their child and they would raise them, let them go off to real college and see the world, let them find love and never be afraid of that person dying, or being hunted down for what they were. 

“You won’t stop until there is total liberation correct?” Scylla’s own spoken words rang back at her, Alder looking at her expectantly, she’d been quiet for too long, lost in her thoughts of a future free.

Scylla looked at the woman before her, and in that moment everything drifted away, they were both reduced to their sixteen year old selves, both young naive witches who had everything taken away from them and were forced to make decisions that put blood on their hands. 

She nodded.

“You might want to prepare better coffee that day, it’ll be a very long meeting, and I have many ideas, Sarah.” Alder smirked at her, and the sight of it was frightening for Scylla, she was unaware the woman could actually do that.

“I wouldn’t expect any less from you, Scylla.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? I have a general plot idea for my drabbles? Woah.. 
> 
> I hope you liked that Alder Ramshorn convo. I honestly think that these two characters mirror each other in a way, and I would LOVE to see their dynamic explored in the future seasons. I'm not sure Alder would be as open to ideas of liberation as this one (being that she's a bit power hungry...) but this is a fic so we can dream :))
> 
> (We'll get that soft shit in the next chapter)


	4. Raelle: A Goddess or an Excellent Worshipper?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Raelle would make a fair and just Goddess"
> 
> \- S.R

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blasts from the past here

Death was so natural, so final, it was the only thing life ever guaranteed, the one thing that connected everything together. 

Scylla stared at the dead squirrel in Abigail’s hands, she’d watched it just moments ago climb a tree, run across it’s branches and jump high up into the air, a quick mumbled seed had the tiny bones crack and fall out of the sky, right onto the ground in front of the Blaster. 

She felt the second the squirrel’s life stopped, felt it seep back into the ground. It was so final, death burying the secrets of that squirrel. Perhaps if they’d followed the animal it might’ve led them to shelter, where there would be more squirrels for them to pluck from the dense Cession forest to fill their queasy bellies with. 

Though a Blaster wouldn’t think of the advantages of keeping the squirrel alive. Always so quick to wreak havoc and destruction onto nature without a second glance, barely even a passing thought. 

And they called Necros the weird ones. 

Necros studied the balance of life and death, opening their channels to feel the energies around them. A task that bound them forever to the death current. It made them appreciate life, a day where they didn’t feel the intense rush of the current opening up around them was sought out for. 

It was, heavy, constantly feeling death around you. It’s reminder of the finality swirling around. Anyone would look at a Necro and claim them to be death itself, but Scylla would call themselves agents of the cycle instead. For Necros could grow new life, or entice the rot of another's soul to burst forth, quite literally through their chest. 

No, Necros kept the balance, Blasters were the harbingers of death. Knowers had the terrible weight of knowledge on their shoulders, being plagued by visions of what could and could not be, to be able to see around corners and immediately know their odds.

Fixers were like, well.

Scylla paused in her thought, removing her eyes from the squirrel in Abigail’s hand and took a moment to admire the fixer next to her, a strong arm around her waist, holding her securely to the log they shared in the circle. 

Raelle’s eyes were animated, her laugh echoing around them in the cold of the night as Tally and her poked jokes at their unit mate. Her face was relaxed, the rugged scar along her cheek that Scylla loved to worship glinting as the sun finally disappeared from the sky. 

Sensing her as she always does the blonde directed her attention to the necro on her left, staring into her eyes as though they held the entire world in them. Scylla met her gaze, the normal sky being darkened by the night casting the stars to reflect in her eyes. Her pupils were wide, and Scylla felt her cheeks rush at seeing them widen when her gaze settled over her completely. 

Fixers were agents of the Goddess herself Scylla decided. 

Whether it was the handsome cut of her jaw, or the soft beauty in her face Scylla could only describe the fixer next to her as divine. Raelle would make a fair and just Goddess, she’d make it her duty to listen to every prayer each mortal bestowed to her in an effort to try and make everyone’s life a little easier. She wouldn’t care for celebrations, instead she’d manifest herself into an old woman to look after the children skirting too close to the edge of the many bonfires built during such trivial schemes of her worshippers. 

Scylla could imagine it right then, Raelle ruling the overworld while Scylla tended to the death current, being a Goddess of Death and guiding the lost souls to the summerlands. She’d join Raelle in the overworld, taking part in the silly celebrations and traditions the mortals partake in just to humor themselves. 

Although, Scylla didn’t think she’d like the eternal hell of being a Goddess, she much though if it meant an eternity of Raelle worshipping between her legs as though she was a divine Scylla decided she could make the sacrifice of a final release, for infinite ones at Raelle’s hands.

“Are you okay?” Her voice was soft, the Cession drawl reanimated to extremes now that they were there. She found it to be very distracting as they trekked their way through the untouched forests. 

Scylla smiled at the worried brows knitting together, drowning out the voices of the other two unit mates who were going on about something neither really cared about. Always worried over if Scylla was okay, if she was included, making sure she was at home. 

Though of course Scylla would always be home when she stood next to Raelle.

“I’m fine, just feeling the current.” Scylla breathed out, and Raelle looked around them, a raised brow, and Goddess Scylla wanted to kiss her, feel the way her lips would move against her, feel herself be claimed in a way that only Raelle had ever seemed to do to her. 

“How do you do it?” Raelle asked, and  _ oh.  _ That wasn’t really a question Scylla had been asked before, or really even expected Raelle to say. Sure the fixer had been there through her many stories and papers about the topic, but she never asked how to open yourself up to it. 

Scylla took in a sharp breath, trying to figure out a way to explain the process. Recalling when she first felt the pull of death in her veins, it was an incredibly intense experience to be had, and unfortunately many necros that she’d ran into, or witches with an affinity for death seemed to have the same experience.

_ She was ten, they’d been walking for days and finally had made it to an empty safe house in some state that Scylla didn’t care to know of. They’d be in another one in two weeks or so if her math was correct.  _

__ _ Her father had been making dinner, her mom brought her outside into the backyard to play catch with an old baseball they’d found three months back.  _

__ _ The sun had begun it’s descent, the world slowly being enveloped by darkness that ate the sounds of the birds leaving crickets to take up their own song, followed by fire flies to illuminate the sky as the stars slowly began to blink to life.  _

__ _ Her mom threw the ball, Scylla jumped high, tumbling to the ground as she caught it, scraping her knee slightly. She was always a klutzy kid, getting all sorts of scratches and bruises that had her parents spending more money on bandaids with curses mumbling under their breaths about wishing one of them were fixers.  _

__ _ Her dad had been a knower, though his skills were small they did enough to get them moving around the country, always alerting them when the time was right to move. Her mother was a necro, and a powerful one at that, she loved the life aspect of it, growing mushrooms for Scylla to pluck, sometimes even being able to coax a flower to grow from the ground prematurely in the winter months so that Scylla could hold onto something pretty to distract her when her parents argued. _

__ _ It wasn’t bad arguing, just normal arguments, ones to be expected by a couple that had been together since high school, arguments to be had when you both desperately loved each other and would do anything to keep the other safe, all while raising an accident-prone child who wanted nothing more than to stay in school and learn, make friends.  _

__ _ Their arguments were justified, and after Scylla turned ten the biggest one occurred that she’d heard yet, all about how Scylla deserved to know the truth, why she couldn’t go to school, why she had to use public library books under a false name, why she had to keep her seed to herself, unable to sing her songs in broad daylight, why she couldn’t make friends or talk to strangers, why they spent weeks sometimes trekking through harsh climates.  _

__ _ Though she was ten now, and both parents relented after seeing Scylla standing at their door, with tears in her eyes begging them to stop fighting over something as silly as her. The two older witches softened at her puffy eyes and cheeks, her father cooing her to him and holding her flush against his chest as her mother rubbed her hair, slowly tangling her hair into the brown strands and began a simple braid of protection.  _

__ _ They explained everything, they didn’t sugarcoat it either.  _

__ _ Her parents were always honest with her. _

__ _ She appreciated it. _

__ _ Scylla had stood up, hand clutching the ball hard and a laugh escaping out of her chest, a blessing and relaxer for her parents to hear. Her mother’s smile was wide, eyes big with pride and admiration as she stared at her daughter, a look of something else that Scylla guessed she’d recognize when one day she was a mother.  _

__ _ She threw the ball at her mother, and then her breath stopped, catching in her lungs as her mind felt like it was being ripped open. Scylla had fallen to her bruised knees, clutching the blades of grass in her hands, squeezing them so hard that they ripped from the ground, the green juices of the healthy plant staining her fingers as she cried out. _

__ _ Scylla remembered the sound of the ball dropping to the ground. She could feel her mother’s heartbeat pumping fast, she could even feel her father’s heart pick up in his chest, in fact Scylla could feel everything. She could feel the fainted beat from the fire flies that had scattered away, even the birds flying overhead searching for their nests.  _

__ _ Not just that though, she could feel as a squirrel was caught in a predator’s grip, she could feel as it left the earth, and tears sprung from her eyes at the desperation. She could feel the emotions, the fear, it was like she had one giant link with everything alive around her, and it was clouding her senses.  _

__ _ Scylla faintly remembered her mother’s strong hand on her temple, a quick whisper of words had her eyes closing and when she finally reopened them she was in her sleeping bag right next to her parents.  _

__ _ Her mother must’ve known the moment she roused from her slumber, quickly jumping over to her and stopping her from getting up too quickly lest she accidentally throw up from the sleep induction.  _

__ _ It was that calm, strong and gentle voice of her mother that reached her ears, explaining a basic foundation of what the death current was, and a small bit of pride was held in those eyes of her’s. She worked with Scylla for weeks afterwards, helping her balance the new connection she had with the world, coaxing her small little projects, teaching her how to make her first death cap and how much better it tasted when it was your own doing.  _

__ “There’s no real way that you just do it. All necros have a moment where the current opens to them, but perhaps the best way to describe it is like a constant linking, feeling the emotions of others around you, the beat of their heart in their chest.” Scylla tried, and Raelle nodded to herself, hands reaching up to rub Scylla’s back.

It seemed like a small thing, but Raelle’s hand on her back reminded her of her father. She’d spent those sixteen years of her life watching the two strange witches. They had warned her of course that their culture was different than them, that witches tended to mate and move onto another, warned her that just because they stayed together it didn’t mean Scylla had to. That she had to stay with Porter just because he was the first she’d ever known. 

And for a while Scylla had fed into that, into what she thought her culture was, trying to relish connecting to a part of herself that was always kept hidden, kept a secret from the world around her. Being at Fort Salem she delved into that culture, moving from partner to partner, yet still her thoughts would always land on her parents, and how her father knew just how to soothe her mother, with a small rub on her back.

She looked deep into Raelle’s strong eyes, and felt herself feeling what she thought her parents must’ve felt. They had tried explaining it to her once, but they told her she would just know it if it was meant for her fate. Looking at Raelle Scylla knew without a doubt, they were no ordinary witches, both outcasts and outliers in a shitty system. 

Both unwilling to lie with another because they had all they needed in each other’s arms.

“We should start a fire so we can eat dinner.” Abigail’s voice caught her ears, and Scylla smirked to herself, turning to the Blaster as Tally reached for her matches. 

“I could always light my face on fire if that would be easier.” Scylla kept her face still, watching the shocked reactions of the unit,  _ her  _ unit, she reminded herself, around her. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna take a pass on that one beautiful.” Raelle laughed, hand rubbing up to the nape of Scylla’s neck, giving a gentle massage that had Scylla’s head feeling too heavy, slowly she rested its weight against Raelle’s bony shoulders, taking comfort on the feel of the girl’s bare skin on hers. 

Praise the Goddess that was Raelle for cutting off the sleeves of regulation shirts. 

“I have so many questions.” Tally asked, her smile big and eyes wide, Scylla threw a wink at her and glanced over at Abigail who looked thoroughly disgusted.

“I’m not heating our dinner, on your face.” Abigail said plainly, and Scylla bit her lips laughing as she raised her lips up to meet Raelle’s ears, lightly grabbing the lobe between her teeth and tugging gently. 

“Why would Abigail be eating you?” Her voice was a whisper, and Raelle snapped her head, looking at the brunette holding a mischievous glint in her eyes as she eyed Raelle up and down. Blush rose into Raelle’s cheeks and Scylla couldn’t help but let out a loud rumble of laughter despite the confused looks on the knower and blaster’s faces. 

“If I’m dinner, then you most certainly are dessert.” Raelle murmured back, not quiet enough from the disgusted sounds of Abigail and the hollar from Tally. 

“Mmm, I don’t know Collar, I might be too many calories, you won’t fit into your pants.” Scylla teased, poking Raelle’s chest as they got lost in their own little world once again, shamelessly trying to one-up the other as though their unit wasn’t right there. 

“Pants are overrated.” She murmured, cupping Scylla’s chin with her fingers, holding her still as the fixer dipped her head to press a sweet kiss to waiting lips. 

They stayed like that for a moment before flinching at the pelting of rocks hitting their heads square on. Scylla and Raelle both shrieked, falling off the log and onto the dirt, fallen autumn leaves crunching under their weight. 

Another round of rocks was pelted at them both individually before they stopped, a high five sounding out before the newly formed alliance of blaster and knower. Scylla looked at Tally with faux hurt, clutching her chest as though she was in agony.

“Craven, how could you? I thought we had something special.” Scylla drew up fake tears, and Tally smiled at her.

“As much as I love our cups of coffee I will not be watching you and Raelle’s foreplay.” 

Scylla rolled her eyes but laughed with the unit, feeling the heat of the flames rush up to her face as the fire began big, a skinned squirrel kabobbed onto a stick firmly held in Abigail’s hand began roasting slowly. 

The blaster lost her patience and soon the stick was in Tally’s hand, the red head carefully spinning it slowly as .Abigail went to pitch up their shared tent, Raelle following her lead and setting up her and Scylla’s. 

It was after dinner, she and Raelle stayed out deciding to take first watch so they could sleep in. Scylla looked up at the sky, finding the two brightest stars that seemed to twinkle right at her, as though they were winking or saying hi. She smiled at them, whispering a small hi back into the air as she thought of her parents looking down at her, a smile would be stretched wide on their faces. 

They would like Raelle. 

She could imagine her mother questioning the blonde, asking her whatever her intentions were, her mother would love her after two seconds of the interrogation, probably happy that they finally had a fixer in the family, someone to tend to the countless cuts that Scylla always seemed to attract. Her father would’ve poked and prodded Scylla all about the young stud of a fixer, asking about when he could expect grandkids.

The dopey fixer turned her gaze to Scylla, pressing a soft and gentle kiss to her forehead, Scylla gave one last glance at the stars she associated with her parents, seeing them blink in response at the affection demonstrated before them, urging her that yes, they approved. She smiled, taking in one more, longer kiss from her love. 

“Lóù imé wèlá, Scylla.” Scylla’s eyes widened, Raelle’s voice was quiet, the necro swallowed heavily, her breath shaky as she stared into Raelle’s confident eyes. The words of the fixer washing over her, unbelievable to her ears. 

Two years they’d known each other. Could the other witch truly be sure in two years? Her mind wandered to her parents for probably the hundredth time that night. They had been together since high school, since before they ran from the call, quickly claiming the other was their wèlá, and running off into the great and scary night to try and have a life of their own. 

They had only known each other for two years, just as Scylla and Raelle had only known each other for two. 

_ I’m her song.  _

A witches song, their seed. It was  _ everything.  _ It was their greatest strength, it was their power, it was what made them who they were, it was their sense of self, the song was what flowed through their veins, what gave them courage to sing, it was what made and completed them. 

And according to Raelle, Scylla completed her, and gave her courage to sing. Scylla flowed through Raelle’s veins as if it was her voice in her veins instead of the blood that confidently pumped out of her chest. Scylla was what gave Raelle her sense of self, Scylla made Raelle who she was, Scylla was her greatest power, and her greatest strength. 

Scylla was everything to Raelle. 

Those three words were no small thing to utter.

It was a vow, it would reach the Goddesses’ ears and demand she intertwine two witches' fates. Demand that she bless their line, bless their love. Raelle watched her, just as Scylla suspected the Goddess was watching her now, two sets of ears awaiting her reply. 

A scared look passed over Raelle’s face, unsure of what to make of the necro’s silence. 

“Éì lumé wèlá jìnà, Scylla?” 

_ Do you love me Scylla?  _

_ Am I your song as you are mine Scylla?  _

_ Do I complete you? _

_ Do I give you Courage? _

_ Am I the blood in your veins? _

_ Do I remind you of who you are? _

_ Am I your power? _

_ Am I your strength? _

_ Am I everything to you? _

Every fiber in her being wanted her to run. Her father’s gentle tone and her mother’s strong voice rising into her ears, demanding she run away from a distraction and go over their evacuation plan screaming at her to run and hide. 

But those were instincts of the past, of taking no attachments. In this life she was allowed one exception, one that was an unlucky safe haven for a dodger, but a Scylla wasn’t a dodger anymore, thanks to Raelle.

Her eyes welled up with tears, looking at the shape of Raelle’s jaw, the soft curve of her jaw, the gentle scar that she worshiped on so many stolen nights of passion. Her eyes followed down to the exposed scar on Raelle’s chest, remembering a time of so many restless weeks when she thought the love of her life was gone forever.

She looked up into those wide, gentle and fearful blue eyes, the answer to everything laying in them. 

Raelle completed her.

Raelle gave her courage.

Raelle was the blood coursing through her veins.

Raelle showed her who she was.

Raelle made her powerful.

Raelle gave her strength.

Raelle was everything, and all she had left. 

Raelle was more than a song. 

Scylla wasn’t sure when she knew, but she knew, and her heart longed to tell the fixer next to her, that without a doubt. Raelle was her song.

“Lóù imé wèlá, Raelle.” 

It was is the night sky became brighter, the vow falling onto the Goddesses’ ears and screaming her delight, the wind picked up, flowing around them, it was laced with an ancient power, it filled their bones, their eyes were like salva and Scylla couldn’t help but reach her hand out to grasp Raelle’s. 

She felt her parents in the power, the beat of their hearts that used to be such a comfort for her to feel for the six years that she could. 

They were blessed by her parents in the summerlands and the Goddess herself. 

For their souls were bound to each other forever.

Destined to meet in each life.

To be each other’s homes for eternity. 

They may not be Goddesses, but their souls were guaranteed each other’s devotion until time stopped. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raelle Collar would be a fair Goddess yes, but I think she'd prefer to be Scylla's worshiper instead ..... ;) 
> 
> Had to put in mother tongue ofc :))


	5. pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (The author accidentally listened to too much sad/angsty music and now you get to read this)
> 
> Just. Pain.
> 
> Listen to Say Something and Saturn -Sleeping At Last- for MAXIMUM "Enjoyment"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry... I'm, I am so sorry.
> 
> TW//
> 
> Torture! Intense! Very Intense! (Doesn't occur until the end and is seperated by *** so you can read over!)

Scylla closed her eyes, listening to the violent howling of the wind, it’s punishing cry screaming out into the tiny crack of the concrete basement, or at least she thought it was a basement, that she was currently shackled in. 

She wasn’t new to chains, a witch was born with them of course, although she was increasingly finding herself in situations where they were starting to be more of a common accessory to see her in. 

To be blunt it was annoying.

_ Fucking annoying.  _

Though not as annoying and humiliating as the cage formed around her head. An iron making that she recognized from Remembrance Hall. It was very medieval, and Scylla believed Alder might be jealous with their enemies, one upping them in their arrangements for prisoners. 

Though the weight surrounding her head was heavy, and the metal tasted like dirt and rust in her mouth, it filled her with a violent burning passion of hate. She much preferred the Salem Collars to the Witches’ bridle. 

She felt like an animal, and of course she was being treated like one.

At least back at the Fort they fed her.

She listened to the roar of the wind, resting her head against the wall, finding herself jealous of the screaming sound of the air from the outside. At least nature could scream for her when she could not. Scylla had tried of course, remembering the moment they forced the contraption onto her.

_ “You won’t get the better of us witch!” A man snarled, his grip harsh holding her down and forcing her head forward. Another grabbed at her jaw, his grimy hands holding her chin and forcing her mouth open in his painful grasp.  _

__ _ The taste of rotten metal made her eyes burn, and the pain caused by her harsh handling made her wince out, she tried screaming as soon as the contraption was locked in place, but it was nowhere louder than the sound of a whimper.  _

__ _ Her eyes had filled with such rage that even the Goddess herself would hide.  _

__ _ Perhaps she did. _

__ Resigned to her lack of voice she sighed, trying her best to relax her jaw against the strain. 

She watched the light from outside slowly descend into darkness, the wind only picking up in absence of the light, causing a chill to rush through her prison. Another day down, that was what? Two? Three? She wasn’t quite sure when she was stolen, but it had been right after Samhain. 

Scylla wanted to take advantage of the holiday to get out intelligence from the dead, work her way through the death current to figure out as much as she could on the Camarilla base located in the Cession, where their main operation would be. 

She had gotten a good lead, about two clicks into the forest, and head West for a day and there was a fortress built, hidden away in the thick woods, it’s concrete structure blending into the coming desolate winter as the trees finally shrugged their leaves, more on the ground then decorating their branches. 

Both her and Raelle went, promising the other two in their unit that they’d be back in a week to give themselves enough time to get over there and situated for recon for a few days. It had been going incredibly well, both her and Raelle made it there earlier than expected, and found a nice spot to sleep in.

Their two successful days had them switching shifts of staying up and monitoring as for their nights, well, let's just say they finally got to have proper alone time that the two had been dying for. Scylla glad to finally get to worship Raelle in all the ways she’d been imagining for weeks now. 

Then it went to shit.

_ Shit’s too nice of a word.  _

__ _ Hell? Doesn’t really exist but civilians would call this situation that.  _

__ She’d gone to sleep that night, head resting in Raelle’s lap as the fixer took watch first shift. When she woke up she was being man-handled, unable to call upon her song as the Witches’ Bridle was being forced onto her. 

It was that stream of thought that had a pit of fear festering low in her stomach. 

_ Raelle.  _

Her song, her love, her fixer, her friend, her everything.

She didn’t know if she was okay, Goddess what were they doing to her? At least when they were busy trying to drown Scylla over and over again she knew their attention wasn’t on her blonde, but when she was sitting here on the floor? The likelihood of them,  _ torturing, _ Raelle was very high.

Scylla tried to keep her spirits up, she’d know if Raelle was- 

_ No, no she’s not.  _

__

__ Scylla gulped, her throat growing a lump that she couldn’t get past, but she wouldn’t cry, not yet, not when she felt like it. Her tormentors would think they were getting to her, that they were breaking the witch, but dammit a witch was nothing if not strong-willed. 

She had to think logically here, weigh the situation at hand. They had gotten to the compound and spent two days free, if three had just passed then that meant they’d be five days away. As long as they lasted three more then help would be on the way. 

Tally would call Anacostia, and the Sergeant wouldn’t hesitate to rush in, Alder would be informed and they’d still manage to swarm the Camarilla operation, take them out and get their intelligence in the process. 

Though the military wouldn’t be subtle, no Goddess no there was no way, the Camarilla would know the instant the military set boot in the Cession. If Raelle and Scylla were still alive they’d be made examples of, and well that’s what they were waiting for weren’t they?

The Camarilla knew, two witches, in uniform? They were done for, they’d either be burned at the stake, or impaled. It could be any twisted thing those civilians wanted. As long as it sent a message. 

Scylla wasn’t stupid, their odds of getting out of this  _ alive,  _ was incredibly slim. 

Her back straightened, her mind was stuck on Raelle’s dopey face, letting the image be her only warmth in her cold cell. She tried not to think of that smile wiped away, screaming in pain as flames licked at her skin, tried not to think about how they would meet their end. She took a moment to trace the “s” into her left palm, unknowing if the girl would even be conscious to see it, or if she was exhausted from the torture. 

If they were doing to Raelle what Scylla had been getting then the blonde could probably handle it. Unless she showed them that she could, in which case the Camarilla were cruel, they’d up the antics on the fixer, make her feel pain. 

_ There’s no way, Raelle would’ve shown her strength and she’s probably getting it worse.  _

__ That was when tears started to brim again in her eyes, her thoughts leading her to what she knew in her bones to be true. Raelle was probably being beaten non-stop, it had been maybe six hours since Scylla’s last session? Six hours non-stop of torture against the blonde would break her.

And she couldn’t be there, couldn’t see her, or show her that she was alive, to keep her pushing through. The helplessness the fixer must be feeling, tensing once again, almost frantically Scylla traced the “S” into her palm, doing it over and over and over again, hoping the burn that would itch onto Raelle’s hand would remind her, give her back her strength even if Scylla wasn’t physically there with her. 

A realization sent a tremor down her spine.

She might never see Raelle again.

The thought left her cold, it hit her chest in a way that had the wind outside howling once again, nature screaming for her when she could not. 

_ Think Scylla, think.  _

__ There was one thing she hadn’t tried yet, the core tool a witch could always fall back on. 

Scylla closed her eyes, back sitting up straight, legs crossing, chained hands resting in her lap, she shivered at the cool sensation of metal on her bare thighs but she shook the distraction away. 

When in doubt, ask the death current. 

She took in a deep and long breath, counting slowly to three.

_ One. _

__ _ Two.  _

__ _ Three. _

__ _ Hold. Hold. Hold. _

__ _ Out. _

__ _ Three. _

__ _ Two. _

__ _ One. _

__ _ Hold. Hold. Hold. _

__ She repeated the mantra in her head, allowing herself to disconnect from physical boundaries and limitations of the world, and instead focused on her energy, the feel of her raw power circling around her metaphysical body. 

Scylla imagined her form, holding out her translucent hands in front of her as she stepped away from her body, feeling it’s connection still strong. 

_ Good.  _

The plane of her room was rocky, she looked down at her hands once again, finding the red string still perfectly and neatly tied onto her pinky, she smiled at it, it’s solidity of their bond reassuring. 

Scylla began to “walk” allowing her mind to trick itself into following the string, it led to her prison door, and in another breath Scylla took, her hand reached out, grasping the door, feeling the death current skimming along just behind it. 

Her breath was enough to activate it, and the door bursted open enveloping her in darkness as she stepped away from her cell and out into the void of the death current. It wasn’t as intense, nothing quite dead, it’s connection was weak, but the string was strong and led her to where she could sense Raelle’s own energy.

Always warm, sunshine and whiskey, always the feeling of home when she felt Raelle’s energy. The sensation seemed to brighten her own blue aura almost brightening as she could almost feel Raelle’s ever calming green. A healer in both spirit and the physical realm. 

The quick thought brought a short smile to her face, but she refocused, clinging onto that energy of Raelle and finding another door.

This time her breath was heavy, laced with fear, unsure of what she would feel of the other girl. Her eyes closed and with weighted hands she pushed through the door, almost crying as she opened her eyes. 

Unable to help herself Scylla ran in the plane, she skidded on her knees, finding herself in a room that her subconscious must’ve filled in as a replica of her cell. She saw Raelle lying down, curled in on herself, her energy and translucent body weaker than she’s ever seen it before.

Scylla clutched onto the fixer, willing her to escape into this dimension with her for at least a few seconds, if anything to see that Scylla was here with her, so that she could whisper a quick ‘I love you’ before they were both ripped back into the hell they were experiencing. 

“Baby, please, Rae, Rae come be with me, be here, please Raelle.” She begged, tapping onto the face that was blurry, and weak, Scylla screamed her cosmic wail roaring out into the universe. 

“Dammit!” Scylla screamed when Raelle didn’t respond, she hovered her hands over Raelle’s energy, her breathing hard and heavy, her mind becoming a fortress, solidified by her will. 

_ A witch was nothing if not strong-willed.  _

__ “Hear my prayer Goddess, it harms none, let my energy be given to her, so mote it be.” 

The tremor of her prayer ringed out into the void.

Scylla stared, pausing as her heart clenched. 

She wished she could hear the howl of the wind, instead of the deathly quiet of the death current around her, so unlike it, normally the current was a rush of everything, emotions, sounds, sensations. Feeling it quiet was hard to wrap around her head.

“Please, Goddess please, she’s my wèlá, let me, just I need her.” She breathed out, eyes wet despite not being something that existed within the current. 

The quiet was a terrible torture on it’s own as she waited, she’d have to leave soon, her energy was already starting to feel depleted. 

_ My energy. _

__ Her eyes widened, and she watched as Raelle’s form brightened, until they were both glowing the same. Raelle sat up in their plane, their slice of dimension set aside for just them in the moment. The fixer widened her eyes, looking around herself, always finding it alarming whenever she seemed to find herself in the death current. Which was a lot for a fixer. 

“Scyl?” Her voice was, it was rough, but it was blessing upon Scylla’s ears nonetheless.

“Rae, I’m here, baby I’m okay, are you okay? Please be okay Rae I-”

“Scyl, shh it’s, it’s fine you’re, your fine.” Raelle looked relieved, moving to clutch onto Scylla, holding her tight to her chest as best she could. She didn’t seem well at all, she looked sickly even sharing some of Scylla’s own energy.

“We’ve got two days before Tally sends for Anacostia, we just have to hold out a little longer Rae.” Scylla whispered, as if afraid that in any second she’d be snatched away from this slice of peace.

“Okay, I can do that okay. Are you?” Raelle spoke, stopping as she tried to gather her thoughts. “We won’t be, we aren’t gonna make it are we?”

Scylla’s heart stopped, looking at the broken fixer before her. 

The tree of Raelle was being thrown around by the wind outside, threatening to uproot her and chop her to bits, lost of all her leaves to decay, and soon the selfishness and horrors of man would dare to take her, turn her into a chair, like the one in Alder’s office. 

It was  _ her  _ job to fix that tree, to stop the decay like a good Necro does, to inspire growth in the face of death. 

She was Raelle’s arborist after all. 

“Look at me Raelle. We’re gonna make it, we’re gonna make it and we’re gonna go to that beach I always talk about, we’re gonna go back to Salem, find a way to end conscription once and for all, get an early discharge-” Raelle interrupted her, her eyes brightening, a new hunger to keep fighting building up in her, the rebellious spark of the girl she first met shining in her eyes.

“I’m gonna marry ya Scyl, none of that five years bullshit too, Collars marry for life, and Imma marry you, we’ll move wherever ya wanna go, start a family. We’re gonna get out.” 

Scylla felt a flutter in her chest, one that had her blushing and grinning like an idiot. 

“That’s, that’s right. So you hold on for me okay? And I’ll hold on for you.” 

Raelle nodded, reaching out her hand to touch Scylla’s face, to feel the comfort of her energy, when essentially, incredibly violently Scylla was torn from their dimension of paradise. 

***

Scylla opened her eyes, gasping, teeth clamping hard against the bite in her mouth, the weight of the physical world crashing down on her all in waves, she felt herself forced to her feet, being dragged out of her cell and into a hall, she struggled, squirming against the harsh grasp of the men.

Her legs were kicked out under her, and she fell crashing to the floor, the cage hitting the concrete and thus smacking the back of her head to the iron, she cried out in pain, feeling a kick to her side that had her breathless once again. Scylla tried crawling away only to be grabbed again, forced into another room and thrown onto the ground.

The back of her shirt was ripped open as she was bound to a post, the cut of the metal against her wrist making her wince out. She felt cold, the back of her shirt ripped open and exposed to the elements. 

She clenched her jaw, breathing hard, trying to get a sense of where she was. There was a muffled screaming coming from somewhere that wasn’t her own, but she couldn’t find it’s source, couldn’t understand it’s warning as the crack of something sounded in the air, and an intense stinging rippled it’s way across her back.

Her wail was not something that could be muffled, it pierced the air and before she could gather her breath the sensation returned, again and again, her knees buckling, a blow sent her flying to the floor, only held up by her restraints above her head. 

Tears sprung out of her head, Goddess this was worse than the splitting pain the military had inflicted upon her. 

Her back was heaving as she tried to catch her breath, it had either been days, or years, Scylla felt like it had been months of what she just endured, but it stopped, for just a few minutes, letting her regather herself as she craned her head around the room, committing it to memory.

That’s when she found where the earlier muffled screams came from, she looked over her shoulder and eyes widened as she met Raelle’s concerned and pained blue eyes, her body helpless and being stretched past their limits, head caged by the same bridle as Scylla.

Her shoulders were dislocated from a quick glance, but it didn’t seem like that was what bothered Raelle, no, instead the tears that were in her eyes were from witnessing what they’d just done to Scylla. 

A gruff voice rang through the air, a scythe danced along Raelle’s jaw, pricking a small trail of blood in its path.

“This’ll break her, repeat again.” 

***

Blue eyes locked on blue, and tears left them both as Scylla braced herself for another round, gathering her strength to herself again as the sound of the wind continued to roar outside.

Three days. 

They could survive three days. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... .... ... 
> 
> I- .. I'm sorry... 
> 
> It just, ya know, Like It.. well see, the idea came into my head and I... 
> 
> I had to write it and I couldn't stop you see? And umm.. I'm sorry.


	6. A Dark Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scylla was probably the only Necro afraid of the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me okay.
> 
> tw//
> 
> Torture, but not graphic??   
> Scylla's parents

The darkness of the death current was calming. The dark shade of the world, it’s plane more like that of a grid with geometric shapes blocking out a form of a world was simple, and even it’s cold was a true coldness, it was more like the coldness of a corpse, one that was erie yet it was natural, it felt natural. 

It was the same thing at night. The darkness sky, the lack of the sun casting the world in perpetual emptiness, inviting creatures and monsters of the night alike to bask in its glory. The coldness associated with night was one that was inevitable, there was no radiant warmth to combat it’s weathered effects, and that too felt natural.

It also held true underneath Scylla’s bed covers at night. Though she’d argue that despite the darkness under those covers there was still a sun right next to her. Coldness didn’t exist when she was next to Raelle, the girl was practically a space heater, and even if Scylla forgot to close her window and a breeze dared to make her shiver even once, Raelle’s strong arms would wrap around her, holding her tight and Scylla would nuzzle her face into the girl’s neck, sighing contentedly. 

Scylla had only ever once, not found comfort in darkness.

The many times she had to hide in a small container because they had to make sure she was ready to hide at a moment's notice. And of course, that last time she ever did hide in a small container in a garage that smelled a bit like an antique store and a twist of cardboard boxes. 

She wasn’t claustrophobic when she was younger, not really until after the traumatic events of her parent’s murder. It was then that she found she couldn’t be in too small a room, she had to make sure she had at least two exits 

Scylla had only ever once, not found comfort in darkness. 

Though, perhaps that would have to change to two times.

For right now Scylla was forced into a kneeling position, in some box of sorts, no way out, and it was dark. It was so dark and she could only make out the sounds of Raelle screaming from somewhere. And dammit she was so fucking terrified. 

She couldn’t breathe, it was as if she was in a vacuum, her throat was burning with the strain, each breath she tried to take only made her lungs burn, they burned as if she was drowning, and her nails dug so far into her skin, had been digging into her palm for so long now that she couldn’t even register the grounding pain. Her jaw clenched so tight she was afraid the bone might snap, and her eyes were wide and wild like an animal.

She couldn’t breathe, she just couldn’t fucking handle it, her fists pounded against the walls, walls that were so closed in on her. The image of the walls shrinking in, threatening to crush her stayed in her mind, and the image was so powerful, it felt so real that she could almost swear that they actually were closing in on her, threatening to kill her, take away whatever little air she was somehow managing to breathe. 

And of course that wasn’t just it, that wasn’t all of what she was forced to experience, because no that would be too easy. It would be entirely too easy for her to do that, because she could do what dad always said, breathe in and out and center herself, to calm down and in a few minutes it’d be done, that what her dad always told her, and it was sometimes the most comfort she could afford, it was certainly the only one she could have right now. Though of course it wasn’t going to be easy, because despite her panic attack, and the clutching of her heart catching in her throat she had to hear Raelle scream in pain.

The screaming, the screaming it was just like- 

_ Mom _

Her eyes flashed over, hearing her mother’s wail while covered in darkness, and Scylla felt a sob bore out of her throat so violently that the screaming stopped for just a minute. There were muffled voices, quick whispers that Scylla couldn’t make out because all she could hear was the quick muffled voices of military police, the fucking bastards sickening laughs as they searched the rest of the house while she stayed put in her hiding spot.

A loud bang sounded and her eyes glazed over with the image of her dad, thankful she didn’t have to see his body, but it sounded so dangerously close to that bang of when their bodies must’ve hit the floor and-

Scylla grit her teeth even harder, the tears pouring down her face despite herself, it was too much, everything was too much, Goddess why did it have to be too much.

_ Raelle isn’t screaming. _

__ It was uncanny how similar the situation was playing out, Scylla in a dark box only able to hear around her, screams, muffled voices, a loud bang and thud, the screams stopping. Her mom’s screams stopped, Raelle’s scream stopping.

Her stomach plummeted. 

_ No. No they’re just fucking with me.  _

__ _ They’re just fucking with me.  _

__ _ Not Raelle not Raelle _

__ _ She isn’t  _

__ _ No no no no no no no no no no no no _

__ Panic seeped through her veins, an icy chill falling over her with every second that it was quiet, even the loud voices had stopped and the fear that was rippling through Scylla was too much to be contained inside. Her fists balled up and she did what she couldn’t do for her parents, she screamed. 

She screamed so loud that it couldn’t be muffled, she screamed so loud that it was enough to melt someone’s brain if it had been a seed sound, she banged on the box, she threw her shoulder into it as much as she could, the darkness threatening to consume her in a way it never had before, in a way it only came close to once before. 

Scylla felt the box rocking, and she kept pushing, she kept pushing and pushing and banging on the walls and screaming and dammit being in a coma was better than what this was because Raelle wasn’t screaming and at least when Raelle was screaming she could hear that she was alive and now she can’t hear it, she can’t hear that hoarse voice crying and dammit she couldn’t, she couldn’t hear it, don’t you realize she couldn’t fucking hear it?

She couldn’t fucking hear that voice cry out, cry out ever again, she couldn’t hear her cry, she couldn’t. Goddess do you not fucking understand that she didn’t get to ever hear Raelle say her name, whether it be from a scream of pleasure, indifference, anger, passion, love. She didn’t get to hear the gentle ways Raelle’s voice would dip when she made a promise to her, she didn’t get to hear the way Raelle would moan whether it be over food or her which used to always be an amusing and annoying thing that Scylla couldn’t help but tease her for and she didn’t get to do that ever again.

Scylla couldn’t fucking handle it, she couldn’t hear it, she didn’t get to fucking hear it. 

She couldn’t hear it.

She couldn’t hear.

She couldn’t.

She-

She shut her eyes tight as the box opened.

Kept her eyes closed as familiar hands gripped at her shoulders and lifted her up. 

Unable to stop her violent shaking, unable to stop the outburst that had her pushing away, a terrible scream ripping from her throat because she didn’t do what her parents asked her, they found her, she screamed and the MPs found her and now they were gonna kill her, or worse. 

She fell to the ground, legs barely even usable as she tried dragging herself away, screaming out in terror as she felt hands grab at her waist, trying to flip her onto her back, she couldn’t hear, she still couldn’t hear the screams and the screams that were in her mind were too loud and, and and and and-

“Scylla, please baby please look at me, please stop it’s okay, I’m right here, baby please.” 

Scylla couldn’t stop shaking, she couldn’t stop fucking shaking but she could hear.

She could hear, and that’s all that Raelle needed.

Warm hands, hands that stoked her fire in so many different ways gathered her up into strong arms that must’ve been relocated at some point because the last time Scylla had seen them they were dislocated. 

She cried, and she shook so hard and she pressed her face right into that favorite spot of hers in Raelle’s neck, smelling the warmth and that scent of sweat, dirt, and that special bit of musk that was just Raelle. She stiffened as she felt hands reaching to undo the bridle, and it was only then that she realized Raelle wasn’t wearing hers.

“Breathe for me Scyl, breathe. In, one, two, three,-”

_ “Four, hold it Scylla, hold it, one, two, three, and let it out, one, two, three, four, repeat it again Scylla, breathe in sweetheart.” The warm voice filled her ears, her father’s gentle voice reassuring her, rubbing soothing circles into her back as she clutched on tight to him, face pressed against his neck.  _

__ _ “It, it was scary.” She recognized her voice, it was higher in pitch, so childlike.  _

__ _ “I know sweetheart, I know.” A hand gripped her chin gently, forcing her to look her dad in the eye, his blue’s met her own wild ones, a soft smile was on his face.  _

__ _ “But hey, you did so good, you lasted longer than before and that’s progress okay.”  _

__ _ It was their game they played. Scylla had to hide in the container and try to outlast her previous time, but she had to keep quiet for a very long time, and she couldn’t move even if her muscles stiffened up, and she couldn’t cry out for mom or dad because they also were apparently playing the game, and if Scylla beat them she got to stay up a little later and have ice cream.  _

__ _ “Do I get ice cream?” She asked, her voice hopeful, her dad smiled down at her, straightening up to his full height while ruffling her hair, she giggled out, squealing when he picked her up, danligng her by her legs as he groaned out at her weight, making it seem like she weighed a thousand pounds.  _

__ _ “You boys really are weak!” She squealed and he laughed, continuing to carry her against his chest into their makeshift living room where mom already had the ice cream ready. _

__ _ “Yes they are Scyl, love please set our child down, don’t want you to accidentally drop her.” Her mother’s voice rang out, her father considered her words for a few moments, shrugging as he slowly uprighted her in his arms, pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and set her down gently. _

__ _ “It’s okay, we’ll just make another one.” Scylla narrowed her eyes at him, cocking her head, earning a laugh from her mother. _

__ _ “How, how do you make another kid?” Scylla’s voice piped up despite the intense staring contest of her parents, they did that a lot. Her parents looked at her and burst out laughing at her childhood innocence.  _

__ _ “When you’re older we’ll tell you little nugget, now go on, the ice cream is gonna melt.”  _

__ “Come on sweetheart, in, hold, and out, just like when you have your night terrors, it’s okay baby I’m right here.” 

A sob tore from her throat and the hands holding her tightened, her back being rubbed in those slow and steady circles that she taught Raelle how to do, even though the blonde was already good at them, seemed to know just how to help her calm down, she still listened to Scylla when she asked her to rub just a tiny bit lower.

Her eyes shut tight even harder, the storm was breaking loose, the experience was so much that the entire traumatic day decided to play out in her head, and so she came undone in Raelle’s steady and probably terribly sore arms as the memories flashed violently through her mind.

_ She had so many good memories with her parents, they nurtured her, loved her in a way only parents could love. They were good people, and she was an angry kid, despite her father continually trying to help her, giving her breathing exercises and everything, and yet still one of the last things she ever told her parents was that she hated them.  _

_ “Just, Scyl, please, take a breath-” _

_ “No! I don’t need to do anything else for you! You say you’re trying to give me freedom? This is what you call freedom!? I don’t have friends outside of Porter, I don’t have a life! Goddess I hate you!” _

_ “Scylla-”  _

_ Her mother’s desperate voice rang out, door slamming shut the screen crashing against it as she ran off to the library, despite the Cession rain pouring harsh against her, and the lack of her jacket. _

_ It was when she came home that day, many hours later, she’d crept through the garage, was standing right in the door between two planes, that of the smell of old antiques and the warm food on the stove when banging sounded out and her mother and father looked at her, forgetting their argument and pushing her back into the garage, to her designated hiding spot.  _

__ _ Her dad shut the door, and she whispered her last “love you” before meeting heavy blue eyes filled with a kind of fear she’d never expected to see in them. Their drills never before held this kind of weight, not once when he’d walk her to that box in the corner of the garage would he ever look at her like, like this was the last time he’d ever see her.  _

_ His hand had held her cheek, his palm was warm, a whispered response of assurance that he forgave her and that he loved her too, and then both he, and her mother slipped through her fingers. She stepped into the small hiding spot, crouched in low to that container, made herself small, her breath hitching as she felt her father secure the lid and the door shut, trying desperately to breathe like her father taught her to, tears painting her cheeks at the screams.  _

“Are you with me Scyl? You can get through this baby, concentrate on that breathing, stay with me.” Raelle’s warm breath fanned across her cheek, and it was only then that she realized she was looking at the kind blues of her love. 

“My song I’m so proud of you okay? You’re doing so good, breathe with me baby breathe.” Scylla couldn’t help but stare into those eyes that just captured her like a deer in headlights, like a moth to a flame that demanded she keep staring into their always so calming waves. 

She breathed, finding herself trying to match with Raelle, her hands reached up, and she was thankful that the fixer kept still, letting her trace her fingers along her scar, her thumb fanning out across ragged grooves of healed over skin. Scylla felt the girl’s lips, closing her eyes for just a second at the warm breath she felt on her finger, then she made her way up her jaw, down to her neck, finally resting at her shoulder, clutching on a little tighter than she probably had to.

Scylla let out one last shaky breath before finally her heart stopped racing, and she leaned her forehead in between Raelle’s chest, matching the heave of Raelle’s breaths, listening to her heartbeat start to calm just as Scylla’s did.

She didn’t even realize that Raelle might’ve been panicking too, but the fixer stayed cool under the pressure, just like a fixer does, and Scylla was so incredibly grateful for her. 

“Thought I lost you there.” Raelle breathed out, swiping a stray hair away from Scylla’s face and tucking it behind her ear. 

Scylla opened her mouth, feeling relief in her jaw now that the bridle was no longer there. She wanted to cry at hearing the other girl’s voice, because she could hear it, she could fucking hear it.

“You stopped screaming and there was a loud thud.” Scylla shook her head, looking up into Raelle’s eyes curiously. “What, what happened, I’m, I'm not sure how long I was, was in there.” Raelle frowned, pressing a soft kiss to her grimy forehead, clutching onto her so tight, mindful of her exposed back that still stung.

“It was two days, the cavalry came early Scyl.” Raelle gave her a small smile and Scylla chanced a glance around, seeing Abigail and Tally with their scorges out, eyeing the pair with worry and relief. 

It was then that Scylla noticed the bodies of their captors littering the ground, and found herself hissing once more at the brush of cool air hitting her back, making her wince catching Raelle’s concern once more.

“My back, it just, I can’t-”

“I’ve got it-”

“No, Rae, you, you shouldn’t-”

“I’m fixin ya Scyl and that’s final.” 

Scylla felt the warmth of a link with Raelle fill her sense, that warmth, Goddess the glorious warmth started a string of tingles in her toes, reaching slowly all the way up to the top of her head. The pain in her back slowly ceded, and she let out a small sigh of relief. 

“Think it’ll scar, but not too badly.” Raelle murmured with a frown in her voice, Scylla caught her chin in her hands, making sure the fixer looked at her.

“Lóù imé wèlá, Raelle.” The other witches in the room stiffened at the words, unsure of if they even heard Scylla correctly. 

“Lóù imé wèlá, Scylla.” 

“Hold me.” She whispered, and Raelle obliged, clutching the brunette to her on the ground just a little longer, sinking back into the feeling of just them, slow circles rubbing into the necros’ lower back. 

They would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you're so traumatized you regress back to a happy memory from childhood ... 
> 
> Also, if it got a little intense I am sorry, I got to this point where I was feeling this pure panic and adrenaline and like, honestly felt really connected to scylla in that moment and I jsut had to write exactly how much panic she (and I) both were feeling..
> 
> n e ways.. .hope you guys liked the angst is over! Or is it?

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if y'all like, might add onto this idk, do soft scenes n stuff who knows, I just started writing this fight scene and couldn't stop.


End file.
